


Thanks for the Memory

by cazflibs



Series: The Glitches and the Glows [4]
Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-11-14 01:01:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11197173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazflibs/pseuds/cazflibs
Summary: When Kryten discovers the truth behind Lister and Rimmer's relationship, he decides to take matters into his own hands. Sometimes the course of true lo- well, whatever the smeg it was - doesn't run smooth.





	1. Tea With Five Sugars

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks goes to LordValeryMimes and Felineranger for the inspiration behind using the 'tea with five sugars' as sexy times code, as well as Kryten's typical mother-hen-clucking reaction. :-)

It all, quite literally, boiled down to a cup of tea.

From the spark of inspiration that had made Rimmer realise his true feelings for Lister, to the symbol of his chastisement after realising quite how at the man’s mercy he indeed was. Tea was both his downfall and his muse, it seemed.

Indeed, the beverage in question had been quite the mocking point in the days after the whole ‘revenge’ situation in the Drive Room. A chink in the armour that Lister couldn't help but target in his teasing.

It had all begun when Lister had brought him a cup of tea as they sat alone in the Sleeping Quarters. Simple enough, one would think. But from small acorns grew endless branches of baiting, and Lister was more than prepared to nurture its growth in order to reap the benefits that it would bring.

Rimmer had been too distracted by his book to heed the warning sign that was the small yet undeniable smile tugging at the edges of Lister’s lips. Upon initial sip, he immediately grimaced at the taste. “Ugh! What the smeg is that?” 

Although he was trying his best to play the innocent, Lister’s true motive couldn't help but creep in from the wings to upstage it. “Tea with five sugars, just the way you like it - ” Dark eyes snared him meaningfully before adding, “ - apparently.”

Rimmer’s face flushed through an interesting palette of reds before frowning at the man in reprimand as he approached. “Yes, well - ” he dismissed in a ruffle of feathers. “One could argue that I'd been subject to misquotation.”

“Course, yeah. _Misquotation_.” Lister echoed with a nod, mock-solemn. At Rimmer’s familiar scowl, he flicked a suggestive eyebrow that held the power to diffuse it immediately as he sank down to his haunches between the hologram’s legs. “When I’m guessin’ what you were _actually_ referring to was - ”

Rimmer sighed raggedly as the nimble fingers that had once been flawlessly adept at swiping goods and performing deceptive slights of hand in his Liverpudlian youth, now made quick and easy work of his fly buttons. “Indeed,” he agreed, a dart of the tongue wetting his lips in unknowing anticipation. “However, I'm increasingly of the opinion that it's something I could develop a taste for.”

The pair’s actions began to mirror one another in an entanglement they were happy to lose themselves in. Rimmer’s eyebrow tugged just as Lister conducted a similar act to his trousers to gain fuller access, before hazel eyes sank closed as a warm, inviting mouth embarked on equally downward depths to envelop his cock.

“You know,” Rimmer mused, his authoritative air somewhat marred by the pleasured trembling to his voice. “I’m sure there's a passage in the Health & Safety manual that strongly discourages fellating a superior whilst they're holding a hot beverage.” He bit his lip hard, desperately trying to keep the mug fastened upright in a now wavering grip. “If not, I definitely need to draft one in.”

Lister drew back slick lips with an air of distinct smugness before chastising him with a single glance. “Your mouth needs to take a break now,” he ordered.

“And dare I say, yours needs to get back to work, lickety split.” Rimmer’s own smug smile was lost behind the mug as he took another cautious sip of obscenely sweet tea. “Pun inten- _ohh-okay, shutting up now_.”

 

And thus, the phrase “tea with five sugars” had developed into a form of flirtatious code; a safe way of proposing a swift, purposeful retirement to the Sleeping Quarters without alerting the others. 

Not that it had stopped the fussing mechanoid from passing comment whenever he overheard Lister’s hushed offer; a response which forced Rimmer to take the hit or backpedal furiously each time, much to Lister’s delight.

Which is why they now found themselves stood before Kryten, like two naughty schoolboys sent to the Headmaster’s office.

“Five sugars _again_ , sir?” Kryten’s rubber features twisted into a mild frown, wagging a mother hen-clucking finger. “I mean, _really_. I must protest.”

Rimmer shot Lister a pointed look who simply smirked in response. “Well what can I say?” he grated, his tone monotonous. “I really enjoy it.” 

There was a less-than-subtle snigger. “Too right he does.”

Lister immediately bit it back in mock-innocence as Rimmer wheeled back to face him. “Your talking?” he hissed through a false smile. “Not particularly helpful right now.”

Kryten, however, was not to be dissuaded. “It can't be good for your health,” he tutted.

“Indeed, it probably isn't.” The hologram glared at Lister meaningfully before rolling his eyes at the more superficial concerns. “But seeing as I'm already dead, I'm willing to take the risk.”

The mechanoid returned to his laundry pile, plucking out a towel from the basket to fold. “The high sugar consumption can still spike your T-count, sir,” he grumbled.

“Really?” Rimmer's face lit with genuine concern. “Do you think I'm in need of a medical?”

“Aaaaand that's enough worrying for today,” Lister cut in with a firm pat on the shoulder before dragging the protesting man away. “What with that GELF moon trip this mornin’, you’ve definitely reached your quota. I've certainly reached me limit of how much I can put up with it, anyway.” 

Lister grinned wickedly to himself as he bundled the man towards the door. “Besides, I know what I'm in medical need of,” he added under his breath.

A dark cloud cast across Kryten’s face as he watched them leave, his rubber neck sinking inwards like a tortoise retreating into its shell as he glared. Thanks to state of the art audio receptors, mechanoids had impeccable hearing; although there were some things he'd rather he hadn't picked up on over the last few weeks.

Mechanoids were also never designed to cope with such intense emotions. Kryten shook out the towel forcefully with a marked _snap_. If his two masters thought that he didn't know what was really going on between them behind closed doors, then they were seriously mistaken. 

Did Mr Lister truly believe that he hadn't noticed that he was spending less and less time with him? That rather than folding towels together on lazy, uneventful afternoons, he suddenly preferred time studying with Mr Rimmer in the privacy of their Bunkroom? Whatever they were ‘privately studying’ that somehow involved one another, Kryten dreaded to think.

And what with all the mutual tea-making that he clearly wasn't privy to -- why, it was enough to send a mechanoid crazy with jealousy.

In fact, it did just that.

Kryten gathered up the basket before embarking on an angry, jerking march down the corridor, his impeccable mechanical mind whirring as it tried to process it all. There was nothing for it. He'd have to throw a spanner in the works somehow.

He froze as a sudden thought hit him before backing up slowly until he returned to the doorway sign he'd just passed. 

_Hologram Simulation Suite_.

Or better still, use aforementioned spanner to do a little memory file tinkering.

 

The moment that the Sleeping Quarters door slid closed behind them, Rimmer folded his arms with a scowl. “You do it on purpose, don't you?” 

Crossing straight to the kitchenette, Lister swallowed back the smirk on his face before glancing back over his shoulder at the man’s approach. “I dunno what you're talkin’ about,” he muttered as he fetched down a box of Choco-Comets from the shelf.

“You know darn well what I'm talking about, Lister,” Rimmer shot back as he purposefully pulled out an empty bowl and held it out with an arched eyebrow. Clocking the return of Lister’s cheeky grin as he deliberately ignored the offer and thrust his hand into the box to savour it like popcorn instead, Rimmer rolled his eyes with a sigh. “You land me in it with Kryten on purpose.” He set the bowl down on the worktop. “He's going to find out if you keep doing it.”

“For smeg’s sake, stop _worrying_ , man,” Lister chided gently. He shoved a handful of dry cereal into his mouth before gesturing with the box. “He doesn't know a thing, it's fine.” He cocked his head questioningly as he spoke through open chews. “So what if he does? You ashamed of me or somethin’?”

Rimmer’s lip curled at the sight. “You really want me to answer that right now?” 

“What?” Feigning ignorance, Lister set the cereal box beside him as his tongue attempted to excavate the ground-in, chewed remains of chocolate cereal from his teeth. “I thought you said I was ‘roguishly handsome’?” he recalled, snaring the man in an unexpected yet rather passionate snog.

The hologram balked, caught between the tent that was threatening to set up camp in his trousers in anticipation of what was to come, and the horribly sweet flavour of the man’s tongue. “Ugh, you taste like that god-awful cereal! Brush your smegging teeth!” Catching an odorous waft, cavernous nostrils immediately flared in revulsion. “And maybe a shower first too. No offence, but you're smelling rather ripe after today’s escapades.”

Lister snorted a cocktail of two parts amusement to one part resentment. “How am I not supposed to take offence at that?” he cried, arms still wrapped around the taller man’s neck. With his armpits now open to the catchment of his nose, Lister took a subtle, evaluative sniff before drawing back apologetically. 

“Actually come to think of it, I do fancy a shower, y’know.” He shrugged off his jacket before throwing it onto the bunk. “Help me wind down after that funny business with the GELFs.”

Rimmer huffed as he plucked up the castaway jacket before hanging it neatly onto the side of the bunk instead. “Well, you did insist on glugging down that irreplaceable sacramental wine of theirs, without permission.”

Tossing off his boots, Lister shrugged lamely as he stepped out of his trousers. “Well, how was I supposed to know I weren't to drink it?” He peeled off the t-shirt that clung sweatily to his skin before using the material to wipe off his armpits. “Besides, it was baking on that moon. I was thirsty.”

Rolling his eyes, Rimmer scoffed. “The last remaining representative of the human race and you have the combined social graces of Donald Trump and Prince Phillip at a - _oh god, not the socks!_ ” He ducked just in time to avoid the balled-up projectile grenades of stench.

Giggling playfully, Lister purposefully closed the gap between them. “Fancy joining me?” he suggested, voice huskily low.

As he made to stand, Rimmer quickly realised that he was directly in line with the man’s rather sizeable boxer package. He had to admit that it was rather a nice invitation. Catching himself gnawing on his lower lip, he straightened with a less-than-subtle cough. “As tempting as that offer is, I'd rather enjoy the end result rather than having to hose and scrub you down in some sort of valet service.”

Smiling, Lister granted him a peck on the lips. “I'll be as quick as I can.”

“No rush,” Rimmer assured with a matching smile. “Unless, of course, you've got some important intergalactic ‘envoy’ dinner reception to dash off to?” he teased in between chaste, loving kisses - like roses in between thorns. “More tribes to insult? Or perhaps you're the keynote speaker at some off-world, black tie event? Specialist topic: The Art of Slobbery?”

Lister sniggered as he drew back to grab his towel. “You're such an arsehole,” he chided light-heartedly. As a quick parting shot, he lunged forward to ruffle up the carefully gelled curls on Rimmer’s head until they stuck out wildly.

Batting away his hand with a smirk, Rimmer combed them back into a side-parting with his fingers. “Ah. Well this is undeniable.”

As he watched him leave, the hologram’s gaze snagged unwillingly on the round firmness of Lister’s arse before granting himself a mental smack round the head. _Come on,_ he instructed himself firmly as he sat down at the central table, drawing the textbook and notepad towards him. _Ten minutes of revision if you're going to spend the evening on frivolity._

 

_287 floors below, Kryten was sneaking his way through the hologram’s memory files. The correct one had to be around here somewhere, he thought to himself. He jabbed experimentally at a few buttons._

Poring over the chapter that focused on route mapping, Rimmer’s eye twitched as an onslaught of RISK campaign strategies came marching through his mind with ill-deserved pomp and ceremony. Frowning in confusion, he shook his head to clear them.

_No, that wasn't right. Maybe…?_

Irritable fingers rubbed at his forehead as his brain suddenly burst into a bizarre remix of every single annoying advert jingle that had ever stubbornly lodged itself into his long-term memory. Okay, now this was getting weird.

_Ah! No, wrong section. This was what he was looking for…_

Rimmer’s head spun dizzy at the intense flurry of intimate memories with Lister that suddenly flashed before his eyes. His pen clattered to the floor as he grimaced at the lurch of travel sickness. His stupid lightbee must be glitching. Fan-smegging-tastic timing, as always. 

_...and...delete._

“Argh!” Rimmer gasped, eyes wincing closed. 

Memory file deletion in holograms was a horribly disconcerting experience. It was the electronic equivalent of a thatch wax - a sudden intense pain with nothing left to show for it afterwards. 

He massaged at inexplicably sore temples before peeling open his eyelids once more to gaze in confusion around the room.

From the shower room doorway, Lister frowned at him in concern. “You okay, man?” he prodded, tucking in the end of the towel that lapped serenely around his waist.

The hologram glanced back at him, blinking awkwardly as if his gaze were being forced to refocus on its subject. Finally it resettled into an old, familiar frown. “I’m fine,” he dismissed self-consciously, plucking up the dropped pen to resume his furious scribbles in his notepad. “Just a glitch.”

From under the bobbly warm depths of the towel, Lister’s cock began to stir. He'd always found the glitching effect that he had on the hologram quite the turn on.

“Gettin’ a _glitch,_ are ya?” he smiled suggestively; a proposition that clearly sailed over Rimmer’s head in the good ship, _Blissful Ignorance._ Thinking that he was perhaps too involved in his revision to notice, Lister signalled from the lighthouse once more. “Y’know, now I'm fresh as a daisy, I could really do with a _cup of tea_ right now. How ‘bout you?”

Rimmer glanced up to him in surprise before a polite, grateful smile curled at the corner of his lip. “Oh! Thank you, Lister,” he replied, a tad disbelieving. “That would be lovely.”

Promptly ignoring him, Rimmer returned to his studying. His writing slowed then stopped at Lister’s meaningful approach, confused hazel eyes tracking back up to meet his. He gestured to the kitchenette with his pen. “You do know the kettle is that way, right?”

Lister’s eyebrows seemed to be performing a strange, interpretative dance that he couldn't decipher. “You fancy five sugars?”

Rimmer stared at him blankly. “Beg pardon?”

“Do you fancy five sugars?” Lister repeated, his voice low and loaded.

Rimmer’s brow knotted in puzzlement. Without breaking their locked stare, he slowly turned his head until he was regarding the man through one eye, as if he could somehow interpret his strange offer from this new angle instead. 

“Nooo,” he drawled, completely baffled. Shaking his head in bemusement, his attention returned to his textbook. “Why would I want that, you gimboid?”

Confusion curled at Lister’s lip. “Alright man,” he replied pointedly, still slightly irked by his veiled yet biting jibes earlier. “No need to be insultin’, you coulda just said ‘another time’, y’know.”

Regarding him strangely, Rimmer gave a tight shrug. “But when would I _ever_ want that?” he sniffed.

Lister’s face crumbled, the pit of his stomach swirling uncomfortably. “Have I said something?” he probed.

Confused and irritated, the hologram waved him away. “Look, whatever game this is you're playing, Lister, I’m not interested, okay?”

“Game?” Lister echoed, wounded. Despite the dismissive nature of the word, it resonated horribly true. Their relationship had always been like this; one of those stupidly complicated board games where only Rimmer seemed to know the rules. “I thought we were both on the same page here?”

Whatever textbook it was that Lister was referring to, Rimmer clearly hadn't studied it. Hazel eyes dropped to his copy of ‘Astronavigation for Idiots’ instead. “Well clearly not. Now buzz off, I'm busy.”

Lister’s mouth hung open lost for words before he clamped it closed with a scowl. He was getting fed up of _still_ getting mixed signals from the man, even this far down the road. He snatched up his graffitied pyjamas and returned to the shower room to change. He shook his head. Why did he always forget this? Once an arsehole, always an arsehole.

 

Kryten tried to keep his relieved smile under check as he served dinner that night. Whilst Mr Cat happily tucked into his fish pie, Mr Lister was jabbing angrily at his mountain of pilau rice as Mr Rimmer deliberately avoided all eye contact. It was clear from the tense silence between the two men that his plan had worked. 

Lister sighed bodily. “Be a pal, Krytie. You couldn’t grab us the hot sauce, could you?”

“My pleasure, sir.”

As he crossed to the kitchenette to retrieve the tiny glass bottle, his CPU buzzing with the warmth of being needed, Kryten finally allowed a guilty grin to surface. 

This was _perfect_.


	2. Breathless

Lister knew that he'd be there. But it wasn't until near the end of his solo shift that he'd gathered the stones to face him.

Trudging down the metallic spiral staircase into the Drive Room, the all-too-familiar, square-shouldered outline slid into view, sat stationed at the navigation console. He bit his lip.

At the sound of his approach, Rimmer’s typing halted suddenly. Glancing over his shoulder, his gaze became unwillingly entangled with Lister’s; the man’s stare charged with an energy that he couldn’t quite put a name to. The hologram cleared his throat self-consciously as he tore it away before his attention turned back to the screen.

Lister shuffled uncomfortably, hovering just behind him. Apart from the odd, faint beep that chimed from the consoles, the only sound to punctuate the awkward silence was Rimmer’s rhythmic typing.

“Hey,” he muttered meekly, tapping the tip of his boot against Rimmer’s chair to snare his attention.

Rimmer turned back to regard him quizzically. “So you're talking to me again now?” he prodded cautiously, turning back to face the console once more. “You've been giving me the silent treatment since yesterday.” He shrugged, nonchalant. “Not that I'm complaining - ”

Lister released a low growl of irritation before allowing himself to speak. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?” he ground out, fidgeting in agitation with his favourite, oft-chewed dreadlock. 

Frankly, he'd been rather pissed off that it was him that was having to extend the olive branch. After all, wasn't it always? But deep down, he knew that it had been a tad inappropriate and immature to pout over a retracted offer of sex. 

Capitulating, Lister sighed. “I shouldn't have bugged you if you were busy,” he admitted, twiddling the dread harder. “And you had every right to refuse the offer. I'm sorry.”

As much as it grated against the instinctively ingrained commandment to never yield to Rimmer in an argument, he was keen demonstrate his developing maturity to the man. Admittedly, he was also rather hopeful for the prospect of make-up sex. A carnal coupling that was always ferociously passionate; the pair each making eager use of the opportunity to exorcise the simmering remains of their frustrations with one another.

Taking great care to ensure those mischievous thoughts didn't surface on his face, Lister dredged forth his best remorseful expression and plastered it on thickly. “I promise, I'll leave you alone when you're revisin’ in future.” 

The chair cautiously swivelled back to face him as Rimmer made a considered assessment of the man’s sincerity. From the barricade, hazel eyes flitted across his face, searching out the verbal attack that was sure to follow such potential baiting. “Really?”

The dread slipped from turmeric-stained fingers that now proffered themselves in a Scout salute. “I swear. Scout’s honour.”

Rimmer’s eyebrow arched in solemn amusement. “You weren't ever a Scout.”

Clocking the distinct beginnings of forgiveness, Lister latched onto it like a much-needed hand-hold and pressed on with scaling the often-impenetrable defences. “Consider me an honorary member.” A knowing smile stretched across his face. “Besides, I'm pretty good when it comes to tying knots,” he added, flashing a cheeky wink.

Missing the veiled meaning completely, Rimmer blinked in genuine surprise at both the apology and the pledge. “Well, thank you,” he nodded appreciatively. “That's very mature of you, I must say.”

“Well, what can I say?”A helpless grin threatened to split Lister’s face. “I'm the picture of maturity nowadays, me.” Reading the smile that tugged at Rimmer’s mouth as an open invitation, Lister gratefully leapt over the barricade, leant forward and sealed keen lips over his. 

Panicked, Rimmer gave a muffled yelp of protest before shoving him back, disgust curling at his lip. “What the smegging smeg are you doing?!” he shrieked, his voice so shrill it threatened to crack each and every screen in the Drive Room.

Lister drew back with an affronted scoff. “I was only kissing you!” 

_“Only?!”_

There was a long, protracted sigh as Lister attempted to expel his frustrations. He gestured wearily around the Drive Room. “Look, there's nobody here, so what's the problem?” He held his hands aloft in a show of innocence so that the pair had a sturdy alibi. “Besides, I already said I wouldn’t try an’ get you into bed when you're busy!” 

Petrified, Rimmer stared back at him wide-eyed, as if the man’s gaze were the headlights to his rabbit. “I should certainly smegging hope not!” he squeaked.

Lister allowed a playful snigger to escape as a thought suddenly struck him. “Although you gotta admit, that time I got you off in here when you were redraftin’ the Health & Safety manual was pretty damn fun, y’remember?”

“Remember?!” Rimmer echoed dizzily, like he'd somehow just emerged in some bizarre alternate dimension. He pressed himself back into the chair’s leather, as if if the extra millimetres of distance between them would somehow help. “How the smeg would I remember something we've never done?”

“Yeah, and then we -- ” Lister tailed off, the liquid gold of his cheeky smile sliding from his face before solidifying into a dead weight that _clanged_ to the bottom of his stomach. “Hang on. What did you say?”

“How would I remember something we've never done?” the hologram insisted, his long, thin fingers still clamped in panic around the armrests.

Lister swallowed hard. These sudden uncharacteristic acts were all beginning to add up to a result he didn't much like. “Are you jokin’?” he prodded shakily. “Cos if you are, it’s not funny, man.”

“Do I look like I'm laughing?” Rimmer cried, his voice still clinging to the rafters of his tonal range like a startled cartoon cat.

Lister had to admit that he didn't. In fact, despite the characteristic scowling defence, the hologram not only looked pretty damn terrified by just one chaste kiss, but completely and utterly perplexed by it.

Rimmer slowly began to recover his voice, although the words still came falteringly. “I suspect that I was supposed to find that flattering?” he challenged, voice quivering. “And in some strange, twisted way, I'm sure in your head it was perfectly acceptable to just kiss me out of nowhere and without permission.” Finally prising his hands free, he waved them in a frantic, insistent dismissal. “But I'm really not interested, okay?”

As Rimmer struggled to hold his glare, Lister desperately studied his eyes, seeking out an iota of sarcasm or recognition. He found none. Instead, from their depths he unearthed the echoed remnants of Rimmer’s dismissive reply from last night.

_“Just a glitch.”_

The words tolled a death knell that resonated up Lister’s spine, causing his breath to seize in his throat for just a moment --

\-- and then he ran.

 

By the time he'd reached the Sleeping Quarters, Lister was sucking in shaking lungfuls of air like oxygen was going out of fashion. He swallowed it back desperately as the mechanoid swivelled back from the kitchenette to face him, concern creasing his rubber features. 

“Sir? Is everything - ?”

“There's something - wrong with - Rimmer - !” Lister panted in panic, kneading at the stitch that needled at his side. He straightened with great difficulty. “I think he's had some kinda lightbee glitch. He's lost loads of his memories.”

Neon-blue eyes darted about nervously, plastic lips stretching into a wide, guilty grimace. “Are you quite sure, sir?” he mumbled, quickly turning back to his dinner preparations. “After all, his recollection of Space Corps Directives has always been somewhat debatable - ”

“Not like that,” Lister insisted, brow furrowing in confusion. “He's been really off with me since yesterday when we got back from that GELF moon. One minute he was himself, the next he was acting oddly and forgettin’ - ” He coughed awkwardly. “ - _conversations_ we'd had, an’ stuff.”

As the mechanoid was forced into the uncomfortable territory of Lie Mode, his vocal unit began to channel the stuttering spirit of Albert Arkwright, head twitching uncontrollably. “Or perhaps after your near-brush with death yesterday, he’d _de-de-de-_ decided that it was best to put your _re-re-re-_ relations in the past, allowing you each to focus on more profitable ventures.”

With the obvious engagement of Lie Mode aside, a horrible realisation clutched icily at Lister’s chest. “I never told you that we'd had ‘relations’,” he replied pointedly. 

Startled, Kryten’s gaze blinked back to meet his. Dark eyes narrowed as they flitted left and right between his in silent interrogation. Eventually, when Lister spoke once again, his words were stiff and quiet. 

“What did you do to him?” 

Kryten's face erupted into a pantomime-esque display of sadness, a long, mournful squeal escaping unwillingly from his vocal unit. “You liked him better than meeeeeeee!” he wailed.

Clutching his hands to his face, Lister groaned into his palms. “Oh, _Kryten - !_ ”

“And what with all that tea you were making for one another - !”

Hands slipping from his face, Lister blinked in confusion. “Tea?” As the realisation hit him, his features retreated in embarrassment, cheeks flushing as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Oh. _Tea,_ ” he echoed. “Right.”

“So I may have just - ” Kryten's shoulders hunched guiltily, spitting out the confession as quickly as he could. “ - deleted-his-memory-of-your-trysts-with-one-another.”

Lister’s mouth dropped open like a dead weight. “Are you smegging serious?!” he blurted. At the mechanoid’s marked silence, he shook his head furiously. “You can't just fiddle with his memories, Kryten! It's immoral!”

Kryten’s hands jerked back and forth like a marionette. “Oh, sir! I don't know what I was thinking!” His features melted mournfully as his voice falsettoed once again. _“I was juuust sooo scaaared!”_

Biting back some choice words, Lister exhaled forcefully. “Then you better go to the Hologram Simulation Suite and reinstate them pronto.” He ground out his words past a false grin. “And then afterwards, we’ll discuss this properly. Maybe whilst I retune your head using a 12-pound lump hammer.” 

Rubber features grimaced before a thought struck him. Cubed fingers twiddled innocently. “B-but I thought you just insinuated that interfering with Mr Rimmer’s memories was immoral?” Kryten ventured. 

“Or I could retune it now? It's all the same to me.” 

Kryten’s neck retreated with a wince. “I'll access Mr Rimmer’s memory files right away, sir.” 

As the mechanoid hurried out, Lister leant onto the back of the stool with a sigh, eyes sinking closed. He could have sworn that Kryten’s jealousy chip was on the blink again. It had only been a few weeks since the mech had suffered a temporary bout of such intensely jealous insanity that he’d been happy for them all to die just to prove a petty point to Butler. Rimmer was probably lucky that his lightbee wasn’t currently orbiting the nearest planetoid. 

“Access my memory files to do _what_ exactly?” 

Startled, Lister whipped back to the doorway to where the hologram now stood regarding him darkly. 

Caught off guard, Lister blinked rapidly as his mouth hung open for the suspicious length of time it took to dredge forth a plausible lie. “Oh! Erm - Kryten reckoned your system was - er - experiencing some - uh - projection issues,” he stumbled, forcing a chuckle past dry lips. “He's just gonna go sort it out for you.” 

Rimmer didn't reply. Instead, Lister was left to squirm under the weight of the disbelieving silence that bore down on him accusingly as the man closed the gap between them. 

“Or you could cut the crap and tell me why the hell you two were discussing accessing my memory files without my knowledge or consent,” he threatened. 

Clearly skating on thin ice, Lister thrust out his hands to both steady himself and placate the man before him. “Okay look, don't freak out, okay?” He gnawed at his lip, pained. How the hell was he going to explain this without sounding completely off his rocker? “But Kryten deleted some of your memories so you’d forget that the two of us have been - ” He stiffened awkwardly. “ - um - ” 

Hazel eyes pinched in suspicious confusion. “That the two of us have been doing _what_ precisely?” 

In the absence of an appropriate definition, Lister deliberately cleared his throat as he nodded to the bunk in indication. 

Rimmer’s eyebrows narrowed together at the bridge of his nose as they attempted to interpret the suggestion before flying up to cling to his hairline. He scoffed a cocktail of dismissal and panic. “I've never - ” he echoed Lister’s indicative nod to the bunk, “ - with you!” 

Embarrassed, Lister’s gaze snagged on the walls. “Yes, Rimmer,” he strained. “You _have_.” 

Having regained his faculties, Rimmer folded his arms, distinctly unimpressed. “Only, I've forgotten about it?” 

“Yeah!” 

There was a pause as Rimmer eyed him dubiously. “For the record, that's the worst chat up line I've ever heard.” 

“ _Rimmer._ " 

“No, seriously. Even I have to admit, it beats the worm-do line, hands down.” 

“I'm not trying to ‘chat you up’, okay?” Lister insisted. “We’re in a relationship already, we have been for months! But when Kryten found out, he got jealous and deleted your memory of it to try and stop it from carrying on.” 

“Oh well, _that's_ convenient,” Rimmer said flatly. Arms still folded, he leant forward to address him in a tone one would use to explain a ridiculously simple point to a group of irritating tourists. “ _Seeing as we’ve never been in a relationship._ ” 

Lister rolled his eyes, biting back a sigh of frustration. “It's true, man! It's just that you don't remember!” He shook his head. “But it’s okay, don't worry,” he dismissed. “We can fix you.” 

Rimmer blinked unsteadily as he straightened, the hurt and anger both wrestling for control of his face. “ _Fix_ me?” he echoed pointedly. 

Granting himself a metaphorical reprimanding smack round the head, Lister winced. _Idiot!_ “Rimmer, I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that -- ” 

“So, is that how you see me?” the hologram needled. “Like one of your little robotics projects that needs _fixing?_ " 

“Of course I don't!” Lister pressed. “Rimmer, man, I _love_ you -- ” 

Rimmer’s face immediately dropped. “Stop it. This isn't funny -- ” 

Realising far too late that he'd flung himself into a stormy sea without a life jacket, Lister scrabbled to keep from sinking. “ -- a-and you love me too - in your own, strange way!” he insisted. “I know you do!” 

Rimmer froze, his entire body stiffening visibly. “Oh my god,” he breathed, as if a terrible thought had returned to haunt him. “Is this because I told you to back off when you kissed me? You - ” he swallowed, looking dangerously close to being sick. “ - you were getting Kryten to fiddle with my memories instead so that I'd believe that I was in love with you?” 

Equally disgusted, Lister’s face hardened. “No,” he shook his head vehemently. “I wouldn't ever manipulate you like that. I wouldn't _make_ you think you were in love.” 

Pained, angry tears were rapidly gathering in Rimmer’s eyes. It may have been over 25 years ago, but the memory of Lise Yates was still painfully strong. “What - ‘again’, you mean?” he managed. 

Lister’s stomach lurched at the accusation that didn't need to be named to be understood; his words like a physical blow. “I - ” he fumbled, his mouth struggling to form words. “I mean, that wasn't - ” 

At his lack of coherent reply, Rimmer’s head swam dizzy at the prospect. Chest heaving, he tore his gaze away as he hurried towards the door. “Stay away from me.” 

Lister gasped with shallow breaths that seemed desperate to escape him as the panic began to set in. Desperate, he quickly staggered to catch up with him, clutching the man by the arm. “No, Rimmer, _please_. It's not like that -- ” 

“Get off me!” the hologram cried, wrenching free from his grasp. Despite the snarling venom that he projected in defence, the genuine fear radiated clearly. “Don't you _dare_ smegging touch me!” 

Lister’s hands leapt away as if he'd been burnt by the man’s words. Utterly bereft, he held them aloft, desperate to gain back the man’s trust. It had taken him months to gain it the first time; he couldn't bear the thought of having to face the uphill struggle again. “Please, you've gotta believe me!” he begged. “Ask Kryten! He’ll tell you it's true!” 

“Oh I've heard plenty, thanks.” 

“Then just trust me!” 

Rimmer’s brow furrowed angrily at the demand. “Trust you?!” he echoed, before smashing the ball back into his court with charged ferocity. “Okay, say that what you're telling me is true, yes? That we were in a relationship but those memories got deleted. You were still going to fiddle with my memory files without telling me or even _asking_ how I felt about it. I mean, what kind of twisted joke of a relationship is that?” 

“I - ” Lister desperately fumbled for an answer that he wasn't even sure he had. “I wasn't hiding it from you,” he explained shakily. “It was just - ” He couldn't help but wince at his own words. “ - simpler for both of us if I could just sort it without you finding out.” 

Rimmer’s mouth hung open as he stared back at him, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. “You're unbelievable.” 

“Rimmer, please - ” 

The hologram’s face hardened. “Kryten’s on his way to _fix_ me, right?” he challenged. Hazel eyes sank closed in concentration, quickly flitting back and forth behind closed lids. “Well, he won't have much luck getting access.” 

The haunting realisation sank down Lister’s spine. “What do you mean?” 

Rimmer’s eyes peeled open once more. “I've password-protected my memory database,” he said simply. “Only I can access it now.” 

Snaking dreadlocks danced across the leather of his jacket as Lister shook his head desperately. “Rimmer, I promise,” he vowed, his voice cracking at the edges. “I swear. You _chose_ to love me.” 

Despite the anger that burned in his chest, there was a heavy, mournful silence as Rimmer’s eyes sadly studied his. “Well, now I choose _not_ to,” he replied, his voice barely a whisper. 

Lister’s face crumbled under the weight of the realisation. “No. Rimmer, you can’t say that. _Please_ ,” he begged, words quivering with the desperation as he scrabbled to place himself between the hologram and the doorway. “You don't even know what you're suggesting.” He swiped at the tears now stinging his cheeks. “For smeg’s sake, that’s like asking me to live without air. I _need_ you.” 

For a moment, Rimmer’s watery gaze dropped to the deck in contemplation before his trademark scowl returned, reigning in all potential for lapse. 

“Yes, well - ” With a shaken yet dismissive sniff, he reeled it all back in; eyes steeling as they met Lister’s once more. “I don’t need to breathe." 

Unable to speak, Lister blinked unsteadily as the hologram brushed past him to leave, his breath seizing unwillingly in his throat. He stood, utterly bereft, chest burning with the unnatural stillness. 

Yet, for just a moment, his heart refused him the air. 


	3. Brewing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who is following and supporting this fic! I hadn't quite realised how many of you were awaiting an update! Thank you so much, it's hugely appreciated.
> 
> I've decided to extend the fic slightly to four chapters rather than three in order to give it full justice. I do hope you continue to enjoy.

Of course, it didn't take Rimmer long to work out that it was all true. The security footage had put paid to that. 

Gnawing in agitation on his thumbnail, Rimmer paced back and forth across the Sleeping Quarters as the video played on screen. Lister was handing him a cup of tea, the same wry grin plastered on his face as when he was about to play a prank. Indeed, as his onscreen self took an initial sip, he immediately balked.

_“Ugh! What the smeg is that?”_

_“Tea with five sugars, just the way you like it - ”_ The Lister on screen fixed him with an intense stare that cast forth a strange scatter of butterflies in Rimmer’s stomach. _“Apparently.”_

_“Yes, well one could argue that I'd been subject to misquotation.”_

Lister was nodding, mock-solemn. _“Course, yeah. Misquotation.”_ As he watched the man sink down purposefully between his legs, Rimmer’s eyebrows pushed back up his forehead. _“When I'm guessin’ what you were actually referring to was - ”_

Rimmer bit the tip of his thumb harder as nimble fingers made quick, light work of his fly buttons. _“Indeed,”_ he heard himself agree. _“However, I'm increasingly of the opinion that it's something I could develop a taste for.”_

He watched, lost in morbid fascination, as the man he thought he hated tugged down his trousers, bent down and -- 

“Off!" 

As he blinked back to reality, Rimmer realised quite how rapidly he was ‘breathing’, his chest buzzing white-hot as reams of code screamed at him for attention. It felt disconcertingly like two sides watching a football match; whilst one half was shouting angered obscenities, the other half was cheering wildly, the air filled with reams of ticker tape. 

Rimmer shook himself out of his reverie before traipsing across to the kitchenette and switching on the kettle. As it rumbled into a boil, he dragged clammy hands down his face before pulling them away, confused, to inspect his now-sore thumb. A guilty red dent where he'd been biting it earlier stared back at him pointedly. 

With a dismissive growl, he picked out a mug before dropping in a tea bag and pouring out the water in his usual methodical fashion, leaving the regimental one-inch gap before the rim. A cupped hand anchored his chin as he stirred in the powdered milk on auto-pilot. 

None of it made sense. He barely even liked the man. Why on Io would he be so keen on participating in such - he swallowed thickly - _extra-curricular activities?_

He was so engrossed in these thoughts that Rimmer didn't even realise that he'd taken a heaped mound of sugar until it was balanced precariously over his cup of tea. Alarmed, he fumbled to return the sugar to the bowl. “What is _wrong_ with me?!” he blurted. 

“ _Man,_ if you want the list, we’ll be here ‘til the end of time.” 

Rimmer didn't turn back to the yowling insult. Instead his eyes sank closed with a subtle groan. 

“Heeeeeey, what's this?” the Cat demanded loudly as he sashayed across the room towards him. “Some kind of sponsored mope-a-thon?” 

Rimmer picked up the cup of tea and turned on his heels to shoot him a glare. Traditional greetings were still not the feline’s forté. “Mmm,” he replied tightly before raising the mug to his lips. 

Despite being mere inches away from Rimmer’s mouth, the Cat plucked it from the hologram’s hands as he passed before settling himself comfortably on the sofa with his newly-acquired beverage. 

Rimmer sighed irritably but said nothing. There wasn't much point. Social awareness wasn't one of his fortés either. 

Warming his hands on the mug, the Cat reclined back, elegantly extending his legs to better admire his shoes. “Well, if you ask me - ” 

“Which I didn't.” 

“ - I'm glad it's all over between you two monkeys. You guys kept putting out all these weird, mixed-up signals, and marking this out as your territory -- ” With his free hand, he smoothed down the sleek bouffant that had suffered many an unwilling and volumising reaction to their charged courting. “I was getting through way too much hair mousse.” 

Blinking his surprise, Rimmer rushed across to join him on the sofa. From what he’d gleaned from the footage he’d seen, it was obvious that their relationship had been kept a secret from the others. “Wait! You - you _knew_ about what was going on between us?” 

“Hey!” The Cat cried in affront. Rimmer started at the pointed finger that was suddenly thrust towards him, stopping just before his nose. Glancing up, he watched warily as narrowed eyes stared down its length as if levelling an arrow. “I may be stupid, but I'm not an idiot.” 

The hologram frowned as he considered this. _“Right,”_ he drawled, confused. 

As the hand returned to join its partner that still clutched the mug, the Cat inclined his head sadly. “Dormouse Cheeks is looking pretty beat up about it though.” He blew across the tea’s surface before taking a cautious sip. Grimacing in a flash of fangs, he quickly discarded it on the table. “Ugh, what’s with you, Goalpost Head? You know this Cat needs sugar in his tea!” 

Rimmer ground his teeth. “How self-centred of me,” he replied flatly. 

Ignoring, or perhaps not registering the dig, the Cat continued as if he'd never been interrupted. “He really digs you, bud.” He studied his perfectly-manicured nails before plucking out a minute speck of dirt and flicking it away, nonchalant. “But why, when you two monkeys are so damn different, beats me.” 

“You and me both,” Rimmer agreed sullenly. “That's what I can't wrap my head around.” 

“Exactly!” The Cat gestured around the room with a regal flick of the hand. “The guy treats this place like a pig sty. At least you keep things kinda tidy.” He leant in conspiratorially. “No offence,” he whispered loudly, “but that's the only thing I like about you.” 

Holding his gaze, Rimmer nodded distantly. “Thanks. I think.” 

The Cat grinned proudly at the response. This ‘chit-chat’ business was a piece of cake. “I mean, the guy is just disgusting!” 

Dismissal tugged at Rimmer’s nose. “Well he's not _that_ bad. I mean, he's certainly a lot better than he used to be.” His nose wrinkled involuntarily. “After all, he no longer infests the Sleeping Quarters with the stench of decomposing socks and changes his clothes weekly rather than annually.” He arched an eyebrow. “In Lister’s book that's the apex of maturity.” 

“Yeah, but he barely gets his ass off this sofa!” the Cat pressed. “He sits in his own filth like some kind of dog, just playing his video games.” 

“Well, you may or may not have noticed but we are in deep space!” Rimmer cut in testily. “Where there isn't a huge amount else _to_ do.” 

The Cat shot him a strange look. “Y’know, for someone who doesn't wanna be with the dude, you defend him a hell of a lot.” 

Hazel eyes darted back to him nervously. “I'm not defending him,” he spluttered. 

“You may be afraid of your own shadow,” the Cat bit back, “but it's kinda stupid to be afraid of what you feel for the guy.” 

“I'm not afraid of what I feel for him!” Rimmer snapped in affront. At the Cat’s curious glance, he quickly amended his wording. “I mean, I _don’t_ feel that way about him, of course I don't!” he ascertained with a nervous laugh. “It's an absurd notion that I could ever - ” 

Rimmer’s words crumbled under the weight of the feline’s disbelieving eyebrow. He sighed irritably. “Fine, okay!” he conceded, arms folded with an audible grump. “Maybe once or twice I'd perhaps wondered - ” The hologram tailed off once more, lost in thought. 

Once the compacted layers of closeted sediment had been mechanically excavated, it had always been pretty obvious what had been buried beneath for far too long. He'd often found his thoughts would congregate to discuss the matter without his consent. 

_Of course,_ Pride would assure the gathering brashly, _it was only natural for certain feelings to emerge after living in such close quarters with someone for so long._

_So why don’t you feel the same way about the Cat?_ A small voice at the back of the room would sometimes pipe up. He was often quickly dismissed from such meetings. Denial would tut loudly and start handing out the biscuits. 

After all, the stupid moggy was right. Lister was an utter disaster area when it came to cleanliness. He had no sense of purpose in life apart from seeing how many ways he could bait him before breakfast. The only thing he truly excelled at, beyond his devil-may-care piloting approach, was driving him clinically insane. 

What could he possibly have fallen for? It couldn't be his irritating gerbil-faced optimism. Or that cute cheeky grin he’d sport whenever he’d pulled a successful prank on him. Or that wonderful way his eyes would light up with mischief whenever he - oh smeg, it was hopeless. 

Rimmer shrugged despondently. “But how can I be sure if what I'm feeling is the real thing?” he mumbled. 

Feline eyes flitted down to his chest before returning to his questioning stare. “Cos a part of you never forgot,” the Cat replied knowingly. A well-groomed eyebrow arched in challenge. “You know your problem? You're not listening to your instincts.” 

Something tugged insistently at Rimmer’s peripheral vision and he glanced down to his chest. The blue fabric of his tunic now pulsed with a strange light that was radiating from his lightbee. 

Panicked, he scrabbled back harder into the sofa’s leather, as it that would somehow have a miraculous effect of disentangling himself from the ethereal glow. “What’s happening to me? Why’s it doing that?” 

The Cat gave a lazy roll of the eyes. Humans were so damn slow. “Man, I keep telling you guys - brains are overrated. Totally last season, bud.” Plucking up the mug of tea as he stood, he crossed to the kitchenette. “If you can't trust your head, then - ?” he nodded to his chest that was now flickering fervently. 

As the Cat began scooping three generous mounds of sugar into the mug, Rimmer gawped at him wordlessly. What was it with this feckless feline and his ability to read him like a smegging book? 

He slumped back into the sofa, staring blankly ahead. Maybe Cats had fortés that humans could never hope to replicate. 


	4. We Can Learn to Love Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just give me a reason  
> Just a little bit's enough  
> Just a second  
> We're not broken, just bent  
> And we can learn to love again 
> 
> \-- P!nk feat Nate Ruess, 'Just Give Me a Reason'

Mechanoids weren't designed to handle emotions.

Arguably yes, since breaking his programming, Kryten had rather enjoyed the highs of ‘happiness’ and the upper echelons of ‘excitement’. But now he could do nothing but wince at the orchestra of buzzing and whirring as the various disgruntled components of his NegaDrive all clambered for his attention. 

From the high-pitched squealing of his Jealousy Circuits to the low grinding hum of his Guilt Chip, his entire system was begging to be absolved.

Since he'd discovered the intricacies of the relationship, he’d reached the sad but inevitable realisation that as wholly and completely devoted to Mr Lister as he was, his charge would never fully depend on him in the same way. 

Kryten stood in the doorway to one of Red Dwarf’s many Observation Domes, watching over his human master as he mournfully regarded the stars.

 _He’ll always need you,_ soothed Reason. _But he needs someone else more._

A pained sigh heaved through the mechanoid’s CPU but he dismissed it quickly. It was time to put things right.

“Mr Lister, sir?” Kryten trilled quietly. He edged towards him, radiating with all the guilt and wariness of a disciplined puppy. “Are you alright?”

Lost in his thoughts, Lister started as his approach. Clocking the concern that was etched into rubber features, he quickly plastered on a façade of a smile. “Yeah, course,” he assured.

The mechanoid’s eyes searched his. If only he could lie like that too. “I'm so sorry, sir,” he managed eventually.

The edges of Lister’s smile sank almost imperceptibly. “It's okay, man,” he dismissed quietly. “It wasn't your fault.” He turned back to regard the stars once more, frowning against the hot tears that threatened to gather. “I'm the one who smegged it up.”

They both watched as the glowing, purple swirl of a distant galaxy glided by silently. Kryten's fingers knotted together self-consciously, desperately attempting to untangle the impossible. 

“I’m not sure I understand how human attraction works, sir,” he mumbled.

“It's okay, Krytes,” Lister assured with a gentle snort. “Humans don't either.”

“But -- a mutual infatuation with Mr Rimmer?!” Kryten blurted, his words having clearly long been desperate to surface. “It’s not even logical!” At Lister’s sigh of irritation, he fumbled to stand before him, as if he were preparing to present charts and diagrams to demonstrate the incompatibility. “Out of all your shared utterances, approximately 72% were insults.”

Dark eyes sank closed, pained. “ _Kryten,_ ” Lister intoned, “love isn’t logical.”

Blinking his surprise, Kryten’s face moulded into an expression he couldn’t quite decipher. “You _love_ him, sir?” he prompted.

Lister’s brow furrowed. “Of course I love him!” he replied testily. “It's gone way beyond bonking if that's what you were worried about.” He bit his tongue in agitation. Or maybe it was the _love_ and not the licentiousness that the mechanoid was objecting to.

“But sir, beyond an unfortunate living situation, you have absolutely nothing in common!” The mechanoid’s rubber features twisted as he attempted to decipher the undefinable. “What about _Mr Rimmer_ could you possibly - ?”

Lister’s frustrations finally found their voice. “Everything, okay?!” he snapped. At the mechanoid’s blank look, his arms floundered as he desperately tried to cram the immensity of his feelings into the cruel limitations of language. 

“I love his stupid flared nostrils and his crazy smeggin’ hair -- ” he spluttered. A sad smile bobbed to the surface of his mouth. “ -- and I love how he could never understand _why_.”

A blush stained Lister’s cheeks pink. “I love the way he still used to tease me and insult me even _after_ we got together, just like he always had.” His eyes narrowed in pursuit of reason. “I guess ‘cos it meant for once in his smeggin’ life he wasn't pretendin’ to be something he wasn't.”

The justifications slipped easily from his lips and with it, the realisation emerged, wings unfolding. “I love the way he’d keep nagging at me to do my robotics revision. Not ‘cos he wanted me to be a better person, but cos he knew how proud I felt when I got it right.”

Snorting in disbelief, Lister shook his head. “I even loved the way he'd insist on enforcing those stupid smeggin’ Space Corps Directives. ‘Cos even though the entire system has been defunct for millions of years, it meant that somethin’ about this weird, smegged-up situation would still feel normal for me, like it did before the accident.” He shrugged helplessly. “He enforced the rules so I could keep breaking them. It's what kept me going.”

Lister held his hands aloft in resignation. "Yeah, he was petty and pernickety and a total prat, but he was _mine_. The guy was utterly infuriating, he drove me wild.” Tugging hard at his curls, pained eyes sank closed as his heart drowned under a tidal wave of grief, mourning the man he’d lost. “He drove me _wild_ ," he breathed.

Kryten didn't offer a reply. Instead a strange smile stretched across square cheeks before neon-blue eyes flitted tellingly over his shoulder. Blinking in confusion, Lister glanced back to where Rimmer stood watching him, utterly bewildered.

The pair simply stared at one another, wide-eyed and wordless. Kryten dismissed himself with a less-than-subtle clearing of the throat.

“If you'll excuse me, sirs,” he began, nonchalant. “There’s a pile of laundry that requires my immediate attention.” Engaging ‘innocent whistle mode’, the mechanoid ambled cheerfully out of the Observation Dome, leaving the pair alone in stunned silence.

Further down the corridor, the Cat was carefully perusing the menu choices on the vending machine. As the mechanoid passed, the pair didn't even need to engage eye contact. A simple high-five as they each focused on their individual tasks spoke more than words could.

For a moment it felt like the Observation Dome had been sucked dry of oxygen; the silence as charged and infinite as the depths of space that surrounded them.

“Did you really mean that?” Rimmer eventually managed, his voice ragged. “That despite me being petty and pernickety - ”

“ _Because_ of those things, Rimmer,” Lister cut in. “Not in spite of.” At the man’s look of confusion, he shook his head with a sigh. “I know you're lookin’ for some kind of explanation that'll make it all make sense. But I promise you, there isn't one.”

From the expression that flashed across the hologram’s face, Lister knew that he'd hit the mark. “I didn't undergo any magical transformation that you're not understanding,” he assured. “And there wasn’t any ‘light through the clouds’ illuminating moment where you changed and I swooned.” 

Lister’s eyes pinched as he attempted to decipher it all. “I just started to realise that that's how I felt about you.” He nodded gently, not quite sure if he was reassuring Rimmer or himself. “And have done for a long time actually.”

Despite his silence, hazel eyes danced across his face to a chorus of questions. Lister’s gaze sank to the deck dejectedly.

“I'm so sorry I tried to restore your memories without consultin’ you first.” Lister shook his head sadly. “I was tryin’ to protect your feelings but that wasn't my call to make.” He lifted his gaze to meet Rimmer’s once more. “I should have been straight with you from the start.”

With a shuddered sigh, the hologram’s eyes searched the stars, as if to consult the constellations for their opinion. The points connected slowly until the bigger picture began to reveal itself.

“You already know the password, don't you,” he said quietly. It was a statement, not a question.

“ _Gazpacho Soup_ , yeah,” Lister muttered sullenly. At the sharp look of affront, he held his hands aloft in innocence. “I haven't done anything!” he insisted. “It's your password for a lotta things, that's all.”

“Oh for the love of --!” Rimmer ground out a growl of irritation. “I smegging _knew_ you knew that password.” Eventually he shrugged his relent. “I suppose I've told you a lot of my secrets since - ” He inclined his head in indication. “ - you know.”

“Psch, who’d you take me for, man?” Lister half-sniggered. “I guessed your password _years_ before you finally told me that one time in bed.”

Rimmer’s nose wrinkled in confusion. “Why would I tell you that in _bed_ of all places?”

The Scouser stifled a smirk. “Oh, I can be very persuasive.”

With a snort, Rimmer bit back a smirk of his own. “Maybe not _that_ persuasive.” At Lister’s questioning frown, he added, “It's not my main password.”

Lister’s mouth sank open, an affronted yet amused scoff not far behind it. “Cheeky git!” He regarded him from under the hood of an admonishing eyebrow. “That's the last time I trust anything you say when I'm giving you five sugars.”

The hologram brandished his hands wide. “What the smeg is this obsession with so much sugar?”

“Hang about,” Lister cut in, confused. “Why did you use that password for something as important as your memory files when you suspected I already knew it?”

Overly-polished shoes squirmed awkwardly. “A test, I suppose?” Now it was Rimmer’s turn to look self-conscious. “If you loved me like you promised you did, then you'd never use gazpacho soup against me.”

Despite the guilt that clouded his chest at Rimmer’s distrust, Lister nodded his understanding. “I swore I wouldn't,” he replied in a whisper, as if it were the most straight-forward premise in the world. “Even if it meant losing you, I - ” 

The words overwhelmed him and he blinked quickly, deliberately dropping his attention to the deck. As painful as the prospect of surrendering him was, his heart couldn’t bear to hurt the man. He shook his head, his voice sinking mournfully low. “ - I couldn't betray your trust again.”

Silence sank in the settling dust between them. Feeling the heat of the man’s gaze boring into him, Lister self-consciously swiped at his eyes as Rimmer dipped his head to study his face. His hand paused, watching confused as nervous hazel eyes danced between his questioning stare and half-open mouth, flitting back and forth in assessment. 

Suddenly the hologram rushed to close the gap between them, as if drawn by a natural magnetism that he could no longer resist, and pressed his lips into a kiss. 

Lister inhaled sharply through his nose in surprise. The kiss was strong enough to lift back his head, but so gentle and nervously halting that his eyes couldn't help but pinch closed, a faint whimper escaping his lips at the charged chasteness of it.

Suddenly it hit him. Although he’d kissed the man hundreds of times, for Rimmer it was all new. It was like their first kiss all over again. And this time, it wasn't Lister who had initiated it.

As he finally drew back, Lister basked in the glow of Rimmer’s blush. The hologram sucked on his bottom lip, smiling shyly. “Now I can see why I fell in love with you.”

The word sunk in quickly like melted butter on hot toast. Lister’s eyes blinked wide, mouth dropping open in shock as he stared back.

“What?” Rimmer recoiled guiltily. At the man’s stunned silence, he squirmed wretchedly. “Oh smeg, did I say the wrong thing? I-I don't know what you're meant to say - ”

A disbelieving chuckle spluttered and died on Lister’s lips before he quickly quenched it. He shook his head insistently. “No, no! That was - ” An undeniable grin spread across his cheeks, eyes now dancing with unshed tears and admissions that perhaps didn't need to be shared. “I just really needed to hear that,” he added eventually, the edges of his voice ragged. “Thank you.”

Rimmer nodded in acceptance before his attentions were snared by the stars once more. Despite not voicing his fears, the nervousness at his prospective leap into the unknown must have been clear on his face. He felt reassuring fingers curl around his and he clung to them instinctively.

Maybe the Cat was right after all. Perhaps part of him had never forgotten.

 

It was a tense few hours waiting in the Sleeping Quarters for Rimmer to return. Lister had been sat at the table, gnawing in agitation at his thumbnail when the man finally entered quietly. 

Lister hurriedly scraped back the stool to stand. “Did it work?”

“I don't know,” Rimmer mumbled guardedly. His brow pinched to sift through the memories as the man cautiously approached. “Kryten said it may take some prompting for the connections to re-establish.”

“Prompting?” Lister smiled solicitously as a thought hit him. “How's this for a prompt?” 

Hooking him by the neck of his uniform with a single finger, he hauled the taller man down into a kiss. Clocking the hazel eyes that startled wide, Lister suppressed a snigger before drawing back to face him. “How ‘bout now?”

Rimmer’s gaze rolled across the room thoughtfully. “I'm not sure,” he drawled.

As Lister reeled him into another kiss, Rimmer’s eyebrow arched almost imperceptibly before quickly dropping it as he was released once again. “And now?” the Scouser prompted.

Despite the weaselly smile that he was struggling to keep under check, Rimmer frowned, mock-solemn. “It's still not ringing a bell,” he laboured. “Perhaps if you tried again?”

Finally cottoning on to Rimmer’s game, Lister stifled a grin of his own as he pulled the man down to kiss him for a third time. It quickly spilled from the edges of their locked lips and he snorted a giggle before pushing him back. “You're such a manipulative sod. Do you know that?”

“Ah, well. This is undeniable.”

Lister swiped at him half-heartedly. “So you _do_ remember everything then?”

Sincerity finally took command of Rimmer’s face. “Yes and no,” he said uncertainly. “The memories are back, but it's like they're in monochrome.” His face twisted into a grimace of apology. “Some of them are pretty hazy.”

Granting him another comforting kiss, their embrace quickly melted together under the heat of a desperate desire neither of them had been expecting. Finally, Lister drew back to tug meaningfully on the man’s lower lip. “Well maybe we should start making some new ones then?”

Rimmer’s eyebrow twitched of its own accord, his expression surprisingly akin to a man who had just been concussed by a cricket bat. “For once, I'm not going to argue with you,” he mumbled.

The pair inhaled sharply as they charged into a ferocious kiss. Scrabbling to free one another from the confines of clothes, they stumbled unseeing towards the bunk, their lips only parting to inelegantly toe off boots and tug off t-shirts.

Finally they collapsed in a naked, panting heap on the bottom bunk. Straddling the hologram purposefully, Lister leant forward to nuzzle the man’s long nose with his own. “Will you say it to me now?” he ventured.

Pinned by the man’s weight, Rimmer squirmed self-consciously. “Listy, you know I'm not great at using that word.”

Sitting up with an exasperated sigh, Lister rolled his eyes. “Even without your memories you could use ‘that word’.”

“Well he didn't know the half of what he was letting himself in for,” Rimmer teased, grinning happily at the playful smack that he was swiftly granted. “See?” he challenged, not quite clocking what Lister was reaching down to grab hold of. “He didn't know that, in the thick of a committed relationship, you always make such high demands for - _oh god, not the socks again!”_

Pressing his entire body weight into the man’s chest to thrust the sweaty sock into his face, Lister smirked teasingly as the man flailed for freedom. “Just one little word, Rimmsy, that's all I wanna hear.”

“Ugh! Fine! I love you, okay?!” Rimmer cried with a grimace. “Even in spite of the _horrible_ stench of your socks!”

Beaming in triumph, Lister sat up to straddle him once more. He swung the offending item from side to side. “Don't you mean ‘ _because_ of my stinky socks?” he asked cheerfully, his face the very portrait of cherubic innocence.

“No. ‘In spite of’,” Rimmer insisted with a scowl. “Definitely ‘in spite of’.”

Tossing the sock over his shoulder, Lister held his attention with a supportive stare. “And without the duress of torture?” he prompted.

Rimmer was still panting gently as he stared back up at him; the apprehension and conviction wrestling in the depths of his gaze. “I love you,” he replied nervously, the words rendering him more naked and exposed than a lack of clothes ever could.

The word was like a shot of heated adrenaline into Lister’s veins. Surging forward, he rushed to consume him, rewarding the man with an uninhibited shower of kisses that soon descended into a dual display of territorial licks and moaning bites. With the safety net of love now safely in place, the pair tossed aside the harnesses and delved into the trusting depths of rough passionate sex.

Neither of them would ever know the irony that precisely twelve minutes later, the word that had been so difficult to express would now be chanted like a mantra, entangled in gasps of ecstasy. 

With sweating foreheads pressed together as he thrust into Lister hard and fast, Rimmer struggled to catch his breath as he cried out at the top of his lungs, the word now spilling freely from his mouth.

“ _God,_ Listy, I love y- ! Ohhh smeg! _Oh!_ Oh _god,_ Listy, I love you! I... LOVE... YOU... SO... MUCH…!” 

It was funny, really; how the man so new to the word could now effortlessly use it to dictate a niche interpretation of romantic poetry that only lustful yet loving sex could compose.

 

 

Whilst there was a reasonable distance between their Sleeping Quarters, it was perhaps for the best that the Cat was blow-drying his hair loudly at the time. The feline hummed happily to himself as he styled, occasionally plucking up a new brush or hairspray to smooth down his elegant coiffure.

Despite the soothing contentment of his ironing as he busied himself pressing the Cat’s outfit for the next day, Kryten couldn't help but sigh his resignation. Whilst he might not wholly like the notion that Mr Lister could be pleasured by anything else apart from his impressively intimidating kebabs, at least his human was happy.

The flickering of the lights was the only warning they had. A squealing whine grew steadily in pitch as the hairdryer and iron began to spark and fizz before the electrics blew altogether, leaving them blinking in the darkness.

“Will you monkeys quit doing that during my evening beauty regime?” the feline yowled angrily. “A Cat has gotta look good, here!”

Kryten drummed cubed fingers on his chestplate with an awkward cough. And Mr Rimmer, he assumed, was _very_ happy indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all of your kind words and support for this fic. Your comments have been hugely appreciated <3


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